#parawritesnonsense

[paraparadigm]

Six Sentence Sunday

Aww thanks @serial-chillr for the taggy tag. I swear, every time I get one of those, I look at my fanfic folder and go “Am I just...getting weirder? Because this stuff is weird. What WAS going through my head at the time? Was it the wine? It was the wine, wasn’t it...” On the upside, I do have reasonable stuff to share—by which I mean I’m not writing smut for PWOTR gnomes. Or well, reasonable in my usual “these two people clearly are orthogonal in subtly similar, yet misaligned ways, and therefore respond to each other with one of the predictable 4 Fs, let’s find out which one it’ll be.” Astarion/Ryl, for BG3 (next chapter of Honey and Pitch).

It's one fluid flurry—action and reaction—too fast for words or reason. She presses her dagger under his jaw, but the tip of his blade is already lodged against her ribs.  She ignores the useless stalemate. Her question, when it comes, is more snarl than sense.  "When?"   She could have asked anything else—a dozen more useful questions, but they all snag together, twisting into a knot that clogs her throat. There's rage in there, and preemptive grief, and the thin, treacherous ice of disbelief she knows better than to lean on.   He's many things, the bloodsucker, but he wouldn't lie—not if the truth cuts sharper.  "We both know I'm faster, darling," he says, eyes fastened on hers in the pallid moonlight. "Besides, you won't kill me this way unless you manage sufficient force for decapitation—though I doubt you will. Not from this angle, in any case."

Tagging @funkypoacher @fandomn00blr @inquisition-dragonborn @lyrium-spa @schrodingerthings and really, anyone else who’d like to share, consider yourself tagged.

[paraparadigm]

TFW your experimental second person omniscient “Aeon’s gaze” POV, which is ostensibly tracking Regill’s post-endgame drama, gets distracted by Daeran and his sass. I frankly don’t know what to do with this chapter, the formalist side of me is annoyed by the necessity of the pronoun switch, while the goblin side of me is thinking “the world needs more Regill smut.”  So, instead, have Daeran, being ...well, Daeran.

Daeran’s eyes narrow slightly, but his face soon resolves into its habitual mask of jaded mockery. “Why, how fortuitous that you should mention it! My contacts—a lovely courtesan and her most recent beau, from Pitax of all places, now that travel is restored—sent word that they have spotted Relys, or someone close to that description except pale as a ghost, on an entirely different road. Now, why would she be headed back towards the former Worldwound… My guess is as good as yours.” He waits out your reaction. It is not forthcoming. “Ah,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied, and beneath it, tight around the eyes with sublimated worry. “Don’t take me at my word, Derenge, my contacts are nothing if not disreputable. Feel free to do due diligence." He pauses. "Well... Thus armed, I shall leave you to your duties. I would, of course, offer to accompany you on what will no doubt prove an edifying journey, but I find lovers’ spats so dreadfully tedious.” He waits a breath. “Do bring her back, if you locate her—though I don’t doubt whatsoever that you will, what with all that grim determination. The Keep is dull beyond belief without the daily challenge of laying siege to our Commander’s fearsome composure. You gnomes are usually such jovial types. Present company excluded.” He bows. “Good day, Your Spikiness.” With that, he saunters off.